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BRIERS OF WILD-ROSE 



BRIERS OF WILD-ROSE 



poems 



PRESTON GURNEY 



Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, 
Nor time unmake what poets know * ' 



WOLLASTON HEIGHTS, MASS. 
1901 



COPYKIGHT, 1901 

Bv Preston Gurnby 



TS 



THE LttRABY OP 

eONGRESS 
Two Co^'lE8 ReCE.vfn 

DEC. 24 1^^ 

C»PVqif»HT ENTQ. 

CLASS ^ XX. "«... 
COF-^ J. 






Zo m^ Wiitc 

MARIA S. (Hawes) GURNEY 

IN MEMORY OF MANY HAPPY LITERARY HOURS 

I AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATE THIS 

VOLUME OF VERSE 



CONTENTS. 

PAGK 

A Brier of Wild Rose i 

The Past Tense 2 

Reverie 3 

Beauty Unique 4 

Fire 5 

Nubia 6 

Moab 7 

Crucial Days 8 

Sky 9 

To-day 10 

Cages II 

The Demise of Worr)' 12 

Three Degrees 13 

Languor 14 

A Barefoot Rhyme 16 

Nimrod 17 

What to Make of It ? 18 

Transparence 20 

Opacity 21 

Serenity 22 

Baffled 23 

Baffled? 24 

Change 25 

Three Houses 27 

When only Love is Gone 28 

Expression 29 

Myself 30 

Unrisen Days 31 

A Face More 32 

A Face Less 33 

Surfaces 34 



Vlll 

PAGE 

Trodden and Untrodden 35 

Inconspicuous 36 

Wind in the Tree Boughs 38 

I Wish I Knew „ 39 

Half Past Three 40 

Whip-poor-will 41 

Ink 42 

Scheveningen 43 

Dream Music 44 

The Indian Pipe 45 

Moderation 46 

Roses sent by M. D. P 47 

Indentures 49 

Soft Invincibility 50 

Not out of date are successes 52 

Prospect 53 

Smoke 54 

Am I "It"? 56 

Light 57 

Weeds 58 

A Hot Day 59 

Shadows 60 

A Poser 61 

Fog 62 

A Sultry Day 63 

Stay and Go 64 

Haworth 66 

Emily Dickinson 68 

George William Curtis 70 

Elia 72 

Thackeray 73 

Emerson 74 

My Sire 75 



PAGE 

Mine 76 

A. P. G 78 

Wish to be Young 79 

A June Shower 80 

Theology's Riddle 81 

Nostalgia 82 

My Heart and I 83 

Golden Motive 84 

I couldn't Abide, Oh ! 85 

Despair 86 

Which to Choose 87 

No Singleness 88 

East Wind 90 

In or Out 91 

Change 92 

Lest we Remember 93 

Experiment 94 

In Season 65 

That " Who keeps a Dog need not bark Himself," 96 

Waiting 97 

Simultaneousness 99 

Love's Appeal loi 

The Summer Sea 102 

Monotony 103 

Illusion 104 

Charm 105 

Use of the Unused 106 

June 17 108 

Burrs 109 

Over the Border no 

Restlessness in 

On the Track 112 

Nothing 113 



X 

PAGE 

What are You Good for ? 114 

Knowing 116 

Hills 117 

Wind 118 

The Right Side of Sorrow 119 

Voyage or Port 120 

That No Task is One 122 

We Plan and Plan 123 

Poppies 124 

That is how deep hope drops 125 

Your Two Eyes 126 

Two Towns 127 

Beginning — Finishing 128 

Life a Riddle 129 

Fit that Befits 130 

Isn't it Sad, Oh ? 131 

A Black Kitten 132 

Access 133 

A Turtle 134 

Poor Peter Bell ! Above thee, too 135 

A Thought World 136 

My Prayer 137 

Vacant Houses 138 

Limbo 140 

Wealth 141 

Balance 142 

Inevitable 143 

I Wonder 144 

Limit and Liberty ... 145 

Nantasket 146 

Surf 147 

The Door 148 

Going Nowhere 149 



XI 

PAGE 

Hair 150 

Events 151 

Loved Thee More 152 

Natural Sounds 153 

Perspective 155 

Inaccessible 156 

Leisure 158 

Some and Others 159 

Almost There 160 

Unpalatable Goodness 161 

Little Fly 162 

Three Little Girls 163 

Anodynes 164 

Afraid 165 

But for a Rood 166 

Children of One Home 167 

Almost 168 

Glimpses . 169 

The Sphinx 170 

Immunity 171 

North Pole 172 

Getting Through 173 

Where Going? 174 

Clouds have Come Over 175 

A Love of a Morning 176 

Where Liv'st Thou 177 

Yes or No.? 178 

Slipped Away 179 

Minus a Thought 180 

No Use Talking 181 

Many Birds of Plumage Rare 182 

A Rainy Day 183 

Color Puzzle 184 



Xll 

PAGE 

Cobwebs 185 

Blue Space 186 

A Problem 187 

Why some live where they do isn't clear . . . 188 

Visions 189 

Bed-time 190 

Fallen Leaves of Wild Rose 191 



{Musa loquitur) 

' I hung my verses in the wind : 
Time and tide their faults may find." 

Emerson. 

Grasses bent with honey dew 
Teach a lesson sage and true. 
Blessings oft their souls bow low, 
On whom the gods best gifts bestow. 



A BRIER OF WILD ROSE 

ROSES wild, bloom of brier, 
Pasture and hedge aglow with fire, 
Not of flame, but of red, 
From all sunsets borrowed. 
No, not red, not red, but rose, — 
Flush of flower-light, ghnt that shows 
'Midst the green of shrubs around. 
Like burning bush on holy ground. 

Unpretending, simple, whence 

Thy sweet blush of innocence ? 

More commanding so my heart 

Than all boasts of gardener's art. 

Would my rhymes might bloom like thee, 

Wild rose-misted briery. 

Fair with thy sincerity. 

Might my muse thy favor bear, 

A wild rose should deck her hair. 



THE PAST TENSE. 

All things have the tenses three, — 
Future, present, past. 

In the first they glow or gloom ; 
In the second fill the room ; 
In the third repose at last. 
As in a splendid tomb. 

Only when the past is reached 
Settles calm upon the soul. 

Something over goes to sleep 
While endless ages roll. 

Dread we endings ? These are best, 
And sanctify the whole. 



REVERIE. 

When the mind, unmoored, floats as on the 
air, 

While halcyon winds breath over her 

And waft her everywhere ; 

And things most loved do glimmer in Indian 
summer haze ; 

And loses consciousness the soul, as in a mute 
amaze ; 

And in the eyes light shineth, far off as moun- 
tains dim ; 

And if one speaks, his words, aloof, in absent 
ears do swim, — 

Thafs reverie^ whose holy spell 

Fancy's children pleaseth well. 



BEAUTY UNIQUE. 

Whatever normal and true 

Flowers after its kind is fair ; 
Though it break every rule of the schools, 

Look at a god in it there. 

Seen through a visage its own, 

Different from aught beside ; 
Were it from the universe gone, 

Poorer the world in its pride. 

A mould of divinity lost. 

Love it. Don't say it's unlike 
Somewhat else your pathway had crost. 
No disparagement note of the other 

But this, too, is fair ; 
Though it break every rule of the schools, 

Look at a god in it there. 



FIRE. 

Fire, fire, fire, 
Light, light, hght, 
Bright, bright, bright. 

Touch thee who dare, 

Punishment dire. 
Fire, fire, fire. 

Flame pure and white, 
Cosey, dear delight. 
Shining through the night. 
(By my three thumbs, 
" A Window in Thrums.") 

Candle afar 

Clear as a star. 

To all who roam 

Beacon of home. 



NUBIA. 

A sad, solitary, sunny world." — Curtis. 

Far up the Nile, up the Nile, 
Lotus-shored behind, before, 

Lies a region sunny, sad, 
Desert-girdled evermore. 

Sakia-saved from sun and sand, 
Silent, solitary land. 

Nubia ! Oft in fancy's boat 

From a world of strife and steam 

Sail I on, until I reach 

Thy tranced shores of dream. 

Sakia-saved from sun and sand, 
Silent, solitary land. 



MOAB. 

Eastern land of slumbrous charm, 
Lonesome name on Bible page, 

Hilly, weary, desolate, 

The same from age to age ; 

No one goeth e'er so far, 

Farther thou than farthest pole ; 
With remoteness not of miles. 

Dim distances of soul. 

Moab, when I fain would sleep, 
Pillow thou my weary head. 

Moab, Moab ! say I o'er. 
Till care is banished. 

Sink I so in blank repose. 

Far as thou from noise and strife. 
I'm in Moab-land and share 

Its dreamless death in Hfe. 



CRUCIAL DAYS. 

Most days are hummed 

To the same old tune, 

Nor offer other chances ; 

A few days though, 

Or late or soon, 

Compel retreats 

Or advances ; 

And these mean more 

Than a hundred days 

Of ordinary sinning, 

Since those that follow 

Ape their ways 

To tunes of their beginning. 

Who passes well 

Life's crucial days 

Sets all to heavenly music. 

Who doesn't so, 

But does them ill, 

Makes all his 

Living too sick. 



SKY. 

Live we under the sky 
Until we die, 
Naught is sky, 
Save to the eye. 
Sky, it would seem, 
Is Nature's dream. 

When the body is under the sod, 
When the soul is with its God, 
Will sky transcend 
And over all bend, — 
A semblance above ? 
That is to prove. 



lO 



TO-DAY. 

To-day. At last thou'rt here : 
I've journeyed many a year. 
Had for thee many a fear, 
And many a hope most dear. 

To-day. We greet at last : 
All yesterdays are past. 
Now, now unveil thy face ! 
Grant me thy boon and grace. 

To-day. I see thee same, 
As days through which I came ; 
Thou 'It soon be gone, as they, 
The same returnless way. 

To-day. Oh, that I knew 
What with thee now to do ; 
Thou'rt on my hands till night, 
God help me use thee right. 



II 



CAGES. 

Birds, we notice, get inside them. 
Men and boys cannot abide them. 
How do they know who haven't tried them ? 

Cages, Tried them ? who that hasn't ? 
Sometime, — either past or present, — 
Rich and poor, and king and peasant. 

Cages, Not of wire of gilt 
Are these souls abide in built. 
Built of faculties dire bounds : 
Built of dollars and of pounds. 
Limits ! limits, a hundred rounds, 
Hast noiie^ mortal ? Zounds ! Zounds ! 

All is limit, — cage, cage, cage, — 
All is — all, from youth to age. 

Sing inside thy cage, O man, 
Be its name Beersheba or Dan. 



THE DEMISE OF WORRY. 

Worry is death to the soul. 

God, who is over the whole, 

Worrieth never : that's why 

His throne is the earth and the sky. 

Sin he seeth enough, 
And evil is gnarled and tough. 
He joyeth to strive and to win, — 
Worry not Himself, but the sin. 

That's the cue 

For me and for you. 

Put Worry under the sod : 

Live without it, worthy of God. 

Toll the bell. Where Worry Ues dead 
The soul's rose shall blossom in red, 
And the world where worriment creeps 
Rise heavenward by bounds and by leaps. 



13 



THREE DEGREES. 

Life was a beck ; 
Limpid, shallow, 
Gurgling o'er its bed : 
One might step over 
(Over-stepping), 
Stepping over. Many did. 

Life was a river : 
Anon, anon, 

Deeper, broader its flow : 
Banks still shoring it, — 
Business of duties, — 
Duties enough, I trow. 

But the time came, 

Life grown vaster 

Left its banks behind forever. 

Now life is ocean, 

All vacation, — 

No more beck and no more river. 



14 



LANGUOR. 

Things are bright, 
The world uproarious, 

So I'm not. 
Heavy, dull, and 
Most inglorious : 

Well I wot. 

Whether school keeps, 
Non-essential ; 

So it seems 
Wilted quite, 
Uninfluential, 

As vague dreams. 

Languor, heavy-lidded, 
Noddeth weary 
(Weary), 

Half asleep. 
Spells narcotic, 
Working queerly 
(Queerly), 

O'er me creep. 



15 
LANGUOR 

Why such moods are 
Floats rejoinder 

Out of view. 
I'm too languid 
E'en to wonder ; 

So, adieu. 



i6 



A BAREFOOT RHYME. 

That birds and beasties wear 910 shoes, 

Saves something yearly 
With which to pay some honest dues, 

Than some more nearly. 

Whose minute moral is, no doubt, 
If some folks bought more seldom, 

They'd be some furloughs further out 
Of bed — bed — bedlam. 



17 



NIMROD. 

Hunting, snaring in woods I go not of late. 
Let quail and partridge breed there, up to 

date. 
And hare and woodchuck, ditto, of old age die, 
If not trapped or otherwise Nimrod's rage by. 
But there's game, too, /hunt in the thicket 
Of the mind-wood, — hide and seek and try to 

trick it. 

Thoughts, — live, wild, evasive sinners. 

Fit for literati's dinners ; 

Thoughts I've scented as hounds do rabbit 

Where their kith and kin inhabit, 

Followed far off — nearer, nearer, then lost 

track ; 
Lost the game I thought I's sure of, — turned 

back ; 
Knowing thought is in the tangle, for I spied it ; 
But by fate, forbidding, was denied it. 

That's why vacafit thus this verse is : 
Well, let's think hard of our mercies. 



WHAT TO MAKE OF ITf 

That I do not know. 
Who does, I wonder ? 
Half the time I'm in a maze 
At this or that blunder. 

Freak, caprice, orchid 
Wild, — all so queer 
And out of reason 
In the garden of the year. 

Why a butterfly's all wings ? 
Why a zebra's hundred rings ? 
Why croak of frog, and caw of crows ? 
What to make of it ? Who knows ? 

Why useless folk live on and on 

To plague the lives out of their betters ? 

Why scamps go free, at times, 

And saints wear fetters ? 

Why homely humans flourish so. 
And angels under the daisies go ? 



19 
WHAT TO MAKE OF IT? 

What to make of it 'i Ho, ho, 
That is what I do not know. 

All who do stand in a row 
Under a tree, 
And counted be. 

Ho, ho I 



20 



TRANSPARENCE. 

Some things transparent be, 

Of which we're glad. 

That most are not need make 

No mortal sad. 

Glass, crystal, water, air 

We scarcely see, 

So traversed by the light they be. 

If all were so, rocks, 

Hills, and trees. 

Beasts, birds, and 

Fishes of all seas. 

And people, too, and 

Clothes they wear ; 

Teeth crystal, muscle, 

Bone, and hair, — 

Why, then, transparent 'twere, 

I take it. 

One prayer would rise 

To crystal skies, 

" Something opaque, 

O Lord, do make it ! " 



21 



OPACITY. 

Transparent people oft we praise, 

Words, deeds, clear seen through all their 

days : 
Their spirits crystalline as these. 
But this abatement surely needeth 
Glass souls. What chance of hidings sweet, 
Where modest shine and shadow meet. 
To captivate whoever heedeth ? 

Oh, something gothic dim and vast, — 

Opacity in souls to cast 

Shade over meanings, till appear 

Stars in the heavens of friends most dear, 

And night as well as day in those 

Upon whose hearts our hearts repose. 



22 



SERENITY. 

A sunflower seems to me 
Of all flowers most serene. 
As tall and bright it stands, 
Tranquil with golden sheen, 
Still glowing to the sun, 
And turning slow 
To see him run his course, 
And past the zenith go 
Down, down the western slope 
Of heaven's high dome. 
Serene as sun the flower, 
All in its garden home. 

I would my soul might be, 
O flower, serene as thee. 
What boots the fear, the fret — 
Tumultuous misery — 
That mortal minds beset ! 
As well abide the hour, 
Sun-daft, like the sunflower, 
Whether in rough-set hedge 
Aglow, or Eden's bower. 



23 



BAFFLED. 

My friend, you're much to me : 
But, somehow, when I surmise 
How or what I can devise 
To bring lustre to your eyes, 
And your heart Hft to the skies, 
And your soul thrill with surprise, 
I am neither witty nor wise, 
Though you're much to me. 

Baffled am I. All I say 
Takes a turn another way. 
Say I this, wish't had been that, 
As it failed joy to beget. 
Happy were I where I sit. 
Could I sometime chance to hit, 
The very vital spot in thee 
Would blossom to my ministry. 

Happy were I not for my sake, 
Happy were I for thy own sake, 
'Twere my happiness to thine make. 
But somehow when I surmise 
How or what I can devise, 
I am neither witty nor wise. 



24 



BAFFLED ? 

Baffled? Oh, nol 

No, no ; no, no. 
One there is, is silly quite, 
Thinks my stupid sayings bright. 
Chuckles o'er them day and night, 
Wonders how's, by second sight, 
I know the wrong thing from the right, 
And give the right thing to a dot, — 
Her heart its happy blossoming spot ; 
For somehow mine, its native juices 
Is nectar for her soul's best uses. 
There's no explaining how this be. 
Nor doubting its sweet mystery. 

Baffled? Oh, no. 

No, no ; no, no ! 



25 



CHANGE. 

Who resisteth change, 

Worsted shall he be ; 
Power there is that rends 

And rears eternally. 
Softly speak that power, 

My heart. My heart lie low 
Where storm uproots the oak, 

There see the violets grow. 

Say not change is ill, 

Nature knoweth best. 
Something other is the end 

Of all things here possesst. 
Greet that other fair, 

Say to him, " My friend," 
Listen what he says to thee, 

To his evangel bend. 

Other children are in the schools 
Than those who used to be ; 

Other people in the houses, 
Than those we used to see ; 



26 

CHANGE 

Others also buy and sell 

In market and in mart. 
Right, no doubt, these changes be, 

Though they nigh break the heart. 



27 



THREE HOUSES. 

Three houses along the road, in a row, 
Past which the whizzing electrics go ; 
Three houses as nearly alike as — well, 
As morning and noon and evening bell. 
If only the paint on them were similar, 
As like as Himmaleh to Himmaleh. 
You would not know, in passing the three, 
In which one lies on a bed of pain, 
Never to rise from it again. 
If you guessed, you'd two to one guess wrong. 
It's the middle house, where the griefs belong, 
That I know, for I've been inside : 
It's the middle house, as past you ride. 
Where a man lies at eternity's door ! 
But the houses, as I said before. 
Are as like each other, as you spin by, 
As green lawn to green lawn, or blue sky to 
blue sky. 



28 



WHEN ONLY LOVE IS GONE. 

What goes with love from Ufe ? 

Things stay we used to prize ; 
But, without love, they altered be, 

And only pain our eyes. 
For the world looks blank, — estranged, 

As numbly we grope on, 

When only love is gone. 

When Love's bright course is run. 

Value of what remains 
Is the lamp's without the flame, 

The world's without the sun. 



29 



EXPRESSION. 

Unrecorded, come and go 

Thoughts and passions of the mind. 
On the form, the face, they gleam, 

But leave no trace behind. 
Are they transients of the soul ? 

Have they worth, or are they vain ? 
If they written were in books. 

Were it any gain ? 
Thoughts and passions of the mind, 

Could they rightly be expressed, 
Might the veriest folly prove, 

Or wisdom's rare bequest. 
But to render these aright. 

True and vivid as they fly, 
Whose the poet's, artist's skill ? 

They're born to die. 
Save as some one gifted highly, — 

Homer, Shakespeare, Browning, Shelley,- 
Does the business of expression, 

Gives the world its best possession. 



30 



MYSELF. 

In the mirror look — whom to see ? 
Somebody called me, 
" Morning, neighbor I : 
Have you in my eye ; 
Hail, and good-bye." 

How got I to be the precious elf — 
Myself ? 

What to ancestry, 
What to men and books, 
What to babbling brooks, 
What to sun and breeze, 
What to lakes and seas, 
What to air and food, 
What to wold and wood, 
What to soil and sod. 
What to heaven and God, 
Owe I of this 77ie ? 
Doth much puzzle me. 

Here I stand tho'. 

In the land tho'. 

Behave / curious neighbor Ego ; 

Or go to — Terra del Fuego. 



31 



UNRISEN DAYS. 

One after another days rise from the East, 

Plenty still waiting their turn. 
What they'll be like, people are wondering, 

Anxious to see and to learn. 

Oh, but those days which haven't arisen 

Will rehearse all the forms of the past, — 
Morning, noon-tide, and evening, — from first 
to the last. 
Strangely over them hover mists of the soul, 
Glowing with golden romances from pillar to 
pole. 

Days rise, 
Souls greet them, 
Bravely meet them. 
As they mount to the 

Crystalline skies. 



32 



A FACE iMORE. 

There's a lamp lit on the shelf 

That was not there before. 
There's a fire new on the hearth 

That glows the whole room o'er. 
There's a house upon the hill 

That wasn't there last year. 
There's bird-song in the wood 

We did not use to hear. 
There's a face more in the world, 

From some bright realm above, 
That somehow brightens all 

With the radiance of love. 

A face — one more — 'neath the sky 
(There were faces a crowd before) 

All I know is, one face sheds 
A glory from shore to shore. 



33 



A FACE LESS. 

A lamp is gone from the shelf, 

Where it v*ras wont to shine. 
A fire is gone from the hearth, 

Where erst its glow had been. 
A house is gone from the hill. 

Where a century it stood. 
A bird that used to sing 

Is gone from the leafy wood. 
A face is gone from this world 

To some bright realm of light, 
That somehow changeth here 

My cheerful day to night. 

A face — one less — 'neath the sky 
(There remaineth of faces a crowd) 

All I know is, with one face went 
A glory — under the shroud. 



34 



SURFACES. 

Some things are 'tis best not probe. 

At the centre of the globe 

Night perpetual doth abide : 

Glooms abyssmal, 

Regions dismal, 

To no human hope allied. 

On the surface, sunny, fair. 
Bloom of flowers, and vital air. 

Thin the ice upon the lake : 

On it still thy pleasure take. 

Depths deep under, see them not : 

Some are dead who this forgot. 

Head 'bove water's safer far 

Than where sharks and mermaids are. 

They who laugh and they who sing 
Keep the upper side of things ; 
Smell the flower, but leave the root, 
Undisturbed, beneath their foot. 
Mud at bottom they oft reach 
Who too profoundly teach or preach. 



35 



TRODDEN AND UNTRODDEN. 

People have been here, thousands on thou- 
sands, 

Through wind and through rain, through 
sun and through sleet ; 
Been here and been here, over and over, 

Till trodden the paths be 'neath their feet. 
Trodden the paths be, where they journeyed, 

Whose journeying now is over for aye. 
Here their evidence through the green country. 

Paths they have trod, which here do stay, — 
Stay the paths, winding and footworn, 

Worn here by feet that are gone away. 

And there be regions trackless as ocean, 
Where nobody's gone, or ever will go : 

Nothing to go for, — regions so lonely, 
Over which only wild winds blow ; 

Whose feet no paths make, pathless forever, 
Where nobody's gone, or ever will go. 

Path-marked or pathless^ — both have their 
pathos. 
Which more pathetic ? Does any one know ? 



36 



INCONSPICUOUS. 

Wilt wear a scarlet coat, 
Or coat of hodden gray ? 

Wilt take all eyes with show, 
Or, unobserved, glide by? 

Wilt make no boast, no stir. 
Or shout aloud your name ? 

Thou canst do either, sir : 
Effects are not the same. 

The scarlet coat, if worn. 
Will target surely prove 

To friend and foe alike, 
As, flaming, on you move. 

Your coat of gray will draw 
Scarcely a single shot 

Of either blame or praise. 
Wilt wear it, then, or not ? 

In winter, o'er the snow. 
In gray do rabbits run ? 



37 

INCONSPICUOUS 

If they in scarlet ran, 

Their day would soon be done. 

Attention to thyself 

Can seldom do thee good. 
Let roses wear the red, 

My friend, I wish you would. 



38 



WIND IN THE TREE BOUGHS. 

Wi?td in the tree boughs, stirring the leaves 
of them, 
Something's abroad that eyes do not see. 
Wind, do thy mission, stirring the leaves of 
them. 
That is for beauty ; that is for me. 

Wind in the tree boughs, ripple their verdure ; 

Toss them and sway them thy own windy 
way. 
More's in the world that responds to thy bidding. 

Through soul of my soul, a wind blows 
to-day. 
Leaves of my life rustle and ripple, — 

Beauteous, astir, as leaves of a tree, — 
Some life on my Hfe making wind's music. 

Listen, my heart, what it singeth in thee ! 
Singeth of countries far o'er the border, — 

Border of night and zone of the day, — 
Something that far is, far as the morning, 
Far as the evening ; fiear, too, as God is 

To hearts when they pray. 



39 



I WISH I KNEW. 

I wish I knew a thing or two more than I do, 
'Twould not, behke then, be so much as you 

do. 
But wouldn't you Hke to know a thing or two 
More than you do ? 

I wish I knew what the bee thinks, 
When he whiz, whizzes with his wings. 

I wish I knew what the lark feels 
When he soars and sings. 

I wish I knew what heaven's like 
Up on high. 

I wish I knew what babies cry for, 

When they cry. 
I wish I knew if you love me, dear, 

As I do you. 
I wish I knew — a thing or two 

More than I do. 



40 



HALF PAST THREE. 

I see a little maid at play far on the hill. 
'Tis Tuesday, — half past three, — about thy 

age, I ween. 
Pretty Uttle maid afar on the hill, on the 

grasses green, 
Playing in the sunbeams, bright and blithe as 

they, 
Would thy Hfe might be gladsome as thy play, 
When 'tis half past three in life's afternoon. 
(Little maid, httle maid, 'twill come full soon.) 
Do not be afraid. Play, Httle maid ; 
Time will play with thee ; play with time 

alway ; 
As now, at half past three. 



41 



WHIP-POOR-WILL. 

Mournful bird of the wood, 
Who taught thee so to sing 

Thy woful, plaintive mood 
With twilight mingUng ? 

What has poor Willie done 

That thou should 'st wish him ill ? 

Dost dread his little gun 

That prowls behind the hill ? 

Is WilUe very poor, 

Poorer than you or me ? 
And, if they whip him more, 

Then will he better be ? 

Thou know'st not, silly one, 

What means thy lay ; 
That aught or stern or lone 

Thy trills to us convey. 

I've never seen thee, bird, 

On rock or hill or tree. 
As voice of night thy word, 

Thy twilight minstrelsy. 



42 



INK. 

Ink^ in my inkstand, black, 
Tell what 'tis you hide ; 

There, in your night-dark well, 
Thoughts, no doubt, abide. 

Wait 'til I dip my pen ; so — 
Now divulge them free. 

Won't this morning ? No. 
Art dour and glum ? 

Well, please not always be 
Both black and dumb. 



43 



SCHEVENINGEN. 

Desolate sea, desolate shore, 
Sand, sand, sand-blown dunes, 
Winds that rove, and rave, and roar ; 
Berserker rages, sagas, runes. 
In a hundred windy tunes ; 
With sand in breath and giddy swirl, 
Round hills that shift and vary, 
In mindless wild vagary, 
In dervish spin and whirl. 

Tufts of grasses light as plumes 
All the lonely land illumes ; 
Hills, a hundred, like to one 
As kine that graze, or bees that hum. 
And the people native here 
Like the land and sea appear, — 
Fluttered raiment, unkempt hair, 
As the grass these hillocks bear ; 
And their wooden huts behind 
Look as blown here by the wind. 

Lonely country, at whose feet 
Wind and sand and salt sea meet. 



44 



DREAM MUSIC. 

I dreamed a dream of what I would like, 

And how I would like it served. 

Needless to own, I attained it not, 

Nor its airy delight deserved ; 

For things as they are, are humdrum quite ; 

And hardly with credit bear the light, — 

Sedate and shady at times. 

In my dream, I assure you, I wrote fine rhymes, 
Syllabled echoes ; word bells whose chimes 
Made melody far and wide, — 
Not for ears only, but souls^ in realms where 

thoughts abide. 
For a music is (in my dreams, I mean) 
That, if I could wakingly bring 
Forth into light of the common day, 
The song that in dreams I sing, 
You should hear, not this that buzzes away, 
But anthem rhythmic and free, 
" As the bells of Shandon that sound so grand 

on 
The pleasant waters of the river Lee." 



45 



THE INDIAN PIPE. 

Orchis of the woodland dim, 

Pale bloom on stem as pale and slim 

As sprouts of tubers in the bin 

Of cellars dank and chill within, 

When spring with might at work outside. 

Forgets not these that in abide. 

Oh, ghostly flora ! haunting forest glade. 
Scentless and spectral, are green growths 

afraid, 
When thou uprisest, mocking their delight 
With thy shroud-mantle in the pale moonlight ? 

Yet charm is thine, for all who fear thee not, 
So unlike aught beside in grove or grot. 
To wonder what thou art, we halt to gaze 
As on a spirit-flower in woodland ways. 



46 



MODERATION. 

To strike so hard as to 

Break the whip 
Hurts the whipper. 

To trip so hard as 
One's self to trip 
Hurts the tripper. 

Enough's enough ; 

What's over spills, — 
Loss to the spiller. 

To overpay an 
Honest debt, 
Wastes the siller. 



47 



ROSES SENT BY M. D. P. 

Roses rosy, sweetly rosy, 

Came through the mail, — 
Uncle Sam's fashion, — 

To my own door: 
A custom of M. D. 

Time immemorial, — 
All in a box, so, — 

She's done it before ; 

Nearly a score. 

Not roses only, as 

I remember. 
But lilies of valley ; pinks, too, 

One birthday. 
This time 'tis roses 

Their bloom discloses : 

That is M. D.'s way. 

What does she mean by it ? 

Cheer of our sorrow. 
O this sad summer ! 

Do roses bloom ? 



48 
ROSES SENT BY M. D. P. 

Forgot I they did so, 

Till on my table 
These from her garden 

Brightened my room. 

I know not if roses have 

Any mission 
To hearts that are desolate, 

Sad as my own. 

They, too, have thorns on them, 

Close to the roses, — 
As I have these roses 

Close to my thorns. 



49 



INDENTURES. 

Indentures, on flat stones, over a roadside 

brook, 
Seen daily, when my way to school I took. 
What language came they to possess for me ! 
In after years, — then^ hardly more than 

three, — 
In after years, my eyes did fill to see 
Those shallow hollows in the rocks, that be 
Like something shapen so in memory, 
And eloquent of morning mystery ; 
Of days long gone, when oft I used to see 
Those shapes of natural masonry. 

I know not what they say to me ; 
But might I find them in eternity, 
A school-boy still I should become, 
Hearing my earthly brooklet's hum 
In gurglings near. For sake of which I fear 
Ditties of seraphs then might fail to hold my 
ear. 



50 



SOFT INVINCIBILITY. 

Stone from the beach, — how smooth and 

round ! 
Soft were the sands where I found thee ; 
Soft were the waters around thee, 
That laved thee with musical sound ; 
Rocked thee and lulled thee for ages, 
Till thou art smoother than rhymes be ; 
Smoother, soothly, than mine be. 
Smooth as the rhymes be on pages 
Of Tennyson, Shelley, and Swinburne, — 
Like theirs, as thou hadst been twin-born. 

Hard stone, soft influences shaped thee. 
These though forever escaped thee. 
Where on the soft sands thy shaping . 
What wave that washed thee was taking 
Thy impress ? Their yielding more mighty 

than granite. 
(Who readeth thy rune may scan it.) 
Invincible softness forever ! 
Hardness wastes its endeavor. 
Not only on beaches wave-moulded, 



SI 
SOFT INVINCIBILITY 

But where souls be, that may have scolded, 
Obdurate still and resistant, 
Which gentleness softly insistent 
Has rounded to shapes of delight 
By love's invincible might. 



52 



" A shipwrecked sailor, buried on this coast, 
Bids you set sail. 
Full many a gallant ship, when we were lost, 
Weathered the gale." 

Theocritus. 

Not out of date are successes. 
Few sink of the millions who sail. 
They who sink not blow no trumpets. 
For the few who went down in the gale 
Loud sounds the woe and the wailing. 
Venture ; be sure you may perish ; 
Ten to one, you'll arrive and prevail. 

Bravo ! for sailor who shipwrecked 
Proclaimed his exceptional ruin, 
To cheer, not dishearten his brothers, 
From daring and doing. 



53 



PROSPECT. 

Prospect far and fair I see ; 
To it nearer I'd not be. 
With yonder wood I've naught to do ; 
Its nymphs and driads I'll not woo. 
And copse and glen and meadow floor, 
I'd rather see than traverse o'er. 
Were I to go where these all lie, 
Lost were their prospect to my eye. 
That's mine. The other may belong 
To Captain Blake or Farmer Strong. 



54 



SMOKE. 

All smoke isn't burnt, 

More is the pity. 
This is the substance 

Of our ditty. 

Some smoke up chimney goes, 

Black belched forth, 
Wind blown to east or west, 

Or south or north. 

Smutching the air. Some 

'Scapes in house. 
Choking the people most, 

Both man and mouse. 

Seems there no place for smoke. 

Above, below. 
Were it but burnt complete 

'Twere better so. 

And other smoke there is 
Of human woe. 



55 
SMOKE 

Of pains and troubles that 
We mortals know, 

Which, 'scaped upon the air. 

Turns day to night. 
Who burns his oivn, helps keep 

This dark world bright. 



56 



AM I *aT"? 

That is the question, chief and single, 
Of children, when in sports they mingle, 

Am I it ? 
Oh, I was " it " full many a time 
When life was young as this new rhyme, 

I was " it." 
Sensations then, as I'm a sinner. 
Was once a minute late to dinner 

When I was " it." 
For to be it was something thrillin'. 
Might I be it again I'd rhyme, 

*' Barkis's wiUin'." 



57 



LIGHT. 

What is light, I wonder. 

Has no weight, no size, 
No semblance, even of itself, 

Were it not for eyes. 

Eyes are queer machines. 

Perfect though they be. 
Without Ufe behind the lens, 

Naught they see. 

What is light then, pray ? 

Suns don't shine. 
Eye and life and sun 

Must combine. 

Then something appears 

Wondrous bright : 
Has no weight, no size, — 

I wonder what is light. 



58 



WEEDS. 

Why God made weeds 

Puzzles the wise. 

Who knows — tell. 

Who replies ? 

Nobody offers ? 

Dumb is the sphinx, 

Deigns not to articulate 

What he thinks. 

Weeds, meanwhile, flourish, — 

So they do. 

Did the same God make them 

That made you ? 

Why he made you 

Might puzzle the weed. 

Theology's mixed, 

It is, indeed. 



59 



A HOT DAY. 

(Jime 28, 1901, 96° in shade.) 

Waves of heat ; glare of sun : 
Simmering light all things upon. 
Dream we of Labrador much as we can, 
Aiding our fancy with rustle of fan. 
Icebergs this minute bolster North Pole up. 
Oh, for just one to cold storage our soul up 1 
Tliink we cool thoughts, — cooler, the hotter. 
Drop one as ice into the water ; 
Then quaff betimes. Oh, the relief oft, 
This tropic day, tempering the grief oft. 



6o 



SHADOWS. 

Shadows of trees on the grass ; 
Shadows of rustling green, 
Cool in the noontide glare, 
Spangles of light between ; 
Cool to the eye that beholds 
As ices to tongue. 
Shadows, what are you so fair, 
Rustling in grasses there. 
Clovers and daisies among ? 

Nothing they tell me you are — 

Than something more rare. 

One tree up in the air 

Where the bird sings ; 

One below on the lawn 

Where the bird's shadow has wings. 



6i 



A POSER. 

How to end what's begun 

Is a poser. 
Half who teach, 
And half who preach, 

Do not know, sir. 

Fumble, mumble ; 

Add some more ; 
More tail to tail 

That was before ; 
And then appendix 

To the caudal, 

Making twaddle. 

How to end what's begun 

Is a poser. 
Half who teach, 
And half who preach, 

Do not know, sir. 



62 



FOG. 

Cloud below, as cloud above ; 
Cloud everywhere to-day. 
Web no weaver ever wove, 
Wet web of hodden gray. 
Darkness light doth not illume, 
Chill sepulchral as the tomb ; 
Grope we through its nether gloom. 
Dim and dubious day I 
Misty morning, where's the broom 
Can sweep a mist away ? 
London, London, over the sea ; 
In the same boat thou and we 1 
Oh, some wind, blow, blow, blow ; 
Circulate above, below. 
Sun shine, shine throtigh f 
Would thou might'st. Please do. 



63 



A SULTRY DAY. 

Something like linen, when 

Starch is gone out oft ; 

Something Hke wet butterflies ; 

Something like kittens dipped in a puddle, 

And wiping wearisome eyes. 

That's how we feel this blear sultry weather, 

Neither living nor dead. 

Willing to sit under some weeping willow, 

With sundry gray hairs on our head. 

And those that are not gray disconsolate. 

Oh, for a breeze from North Pole 1 

Oh, for a whiff from Spitzbergen 

To stiffen the thews of the soul 1 



64 



STAY AND GO. 

Do things that stay, and likewise go, 
Include all things here below ? 

Stays the tree, but go its leaves ; 

Stays the land, but go its sheaves ; 

Stays the time, but go the years ; 

Stays the eye, but go its tears ; 

Stays the road, but go its wains ; 

Stays the till, but go its gains. 

Stay and go, go and stay. 

Is the round of things alway. 

Things that stay must also go. 

Later exit ; pace more slow. 

Goes the ancient tree at last 

Which, hundred times, its leaves had cast. 

Goes the land, as what it bears ; 

Go the ages, as the years ; 

Go the eyes, when wept their tears ; 

Goes the road, as went its wains ; 

Goes the till, as went its gains. 

Do all things go, till naught remains ? 



65 
STAY AND GO 

Stay and never go away, — 
Trtith afid love and God alway. 
Things that come and Ukewise go 
Include not all things below. 



66 



HAWORTH. 

Quaint little hill town, 

Yorkshire, West Riding, — 
Storm-beat, wind-blown, — 

Wuthering Height, — 
Moor high lifting. 

Purple with heather. 
Glorious in sunshine, 

Grim in the night. 

Haworth, lone sitting, — 
Gray stone of low houses, — 

Church, manse, and graveyard 
Grouped close beside, 

FeeHng the breath and the blast 
Of the north wind. 

Lived here three sisters. 
Whose fame far and wide 

Has gone forth o'er the world 
For books they have written. 

Purple as moorlands, 
Or sad as these hills, — 



^1 

HAWORTH 

Books that the hearts of us all 

Have smitten 
With Nature's wild wand, or 

Humanity's ills. 

Frail girls, secluded, writing 
Brave thoughts out, — 

Dreams and romances 
Of fancy, sublime. 

One day I stood 

Where you lived, so lonely. 
Had you not lived there, 
I had not stood there. 

Or scribbled this rhyme. 



68 



EMILY DICKINSON. 

Human orchid^ rathe and wild, 
Hermit soul and Nature's child, 
Poet, reared not in the schools, 
Got elsewhere thy magic tools. 
Who thy teachers ? Whence thy art ? 
Actedst thou no borrowed part. 
Listener to wind and shower, 
To herb and bush, to bird and flower ; 
From some angle, else untrod. 
Peering forth on sun and sod. 
On shows of earth and ways of God. 
Keen perception, cleaving through, 
Electric quick and ever true 
To the marrow, pith, or core 
Of each thing, whose surface o'er 
Most eyes pass, but fail to see 
Their inmost crypts, where meanings be. 
Imagination thine, every word a wing ; 
Every period plumage dight in tropic color- 
ing; 
Brief, swift wafts of song, 
From page to page along ; 



69 

EMILY DICKINSON 

Bird-like, bob-o'-lincoln, 

Tilting on reed and tree, 

With raptured trills of love and light,- 

Thanks for thy minstrelsy 1 



70 



GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 

Knight of letters, 

Courtly, genial. 
Soul unsullied by 

Aught menial ; 
Bold to champion 

Noble causes ; 
Heedless of the 

World's applauses ; 
Silver tongue and 

Polished phrase, 
Who deserves a 

Nobler praise ? 

As howadji most 

Thou shinest. 
Egypt, Nubia, 

Thou divinest. 
Syrian sunshine. 

Desert sands — 
Tour we with thee 

Through far lands, 



71 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS 

As we journey, 

Feeling more 
Orient-souled 

Than e'er before. 

Never on the Nile 

Sailed we. 
Yet have sailed 

On it with thee. 

On MacWhirter's 

Back have rid, 
And climbed to 

Loftiest pyramid. 

O, howadji, — 

Gone before us ; 
Other Eastern tales 

But bore us. 
Save Eothen, 

None like thee 
Has told the 

Eastern mystery. 



72 



ELIA. 

Gentle Elia, mirthful-wise ; 

Quaint with quips and oddities ; 

Quince-like flavor, ail thine own ; 

Caprice and sense together sown. 

Mind whose whimsies curl like smoke, 

Whose earnest shows through many a joke ; 

Lover less of hill and vale 

Than of roast pig and foaming ale, 

And " sweet security of streets," 

And candle light on folio'd treats 

Of Gibber, Waller, Jonson rare, 

Or Shakespeare's muse and fairie lore. 

Gentle Elia, mirthful-wise ; 

Quaint with quips and oddities. 



73 



THACKERAY. 

Caustic moralist ; hard on shams ; 
Separating goats from lambs, 
Seething these, but folding those ; 
From snobbery stripping its false clothes. 
Preacher, novelist, humorist, sage, 
Wit and pathos on each page. 

Oh, thy Beckys, Josses, Dobbins, 
Clives and Crawleys, and Cock Robins, — 
Hundred puppets made to walk 
Over the boards, to smirk and talk ; 
Laughed at, lectured, and caressed, 
Or ridiculed, as seemeth best 
To him who sits behind the screen ; 
And stepping forward, now and then, 
Explains the kind of folks these be. 
And very Hke some, whom we see ; 
Then laughing at us, in his sleeve, 
Shows mirrors of ourselves in these. 
'' O Thackeray, don't ! " plead Currer Bell. 
A mot opinion echoeth well. 



74 



EMERSON. 

Concord's sage, self-poised and free ; 
Poet optimist, serene ; 
Genius, born to mystery, 
Mixed with sense more clear and clean 
Than ever mystic had before, since Eden*s 
hour. 

Head in cloud, but snowing flakes 
Out of realms of dimmest air, 
Till all things their semblance takes, 
White's his soul, whose seal they bear ; 
Lover thou of woodland ways, 
Murmurings of the wind and leaves, 
Telling what the pine-tree says 
To its sisterhood of trees ; 
Showing cloth that Hafiz spun, — 
Plato, Swedenborg, Montaine. 
But thy trademark — Emerson — 
No one else will e'er obtain. 



75 



MY SIRE. 

Serene of soul, he minded not what others 
thought, — 
Their creed, their way, — 
But walked in independent wise, as one 
Who his own conscience 

Must obey. 
" Some will have more, some less, 

Than we," he said. 
" So mind it not ; 
Live as thou canst ; nor envy mortal, high or 

low, his lot." 
Simple in tastes ; walking in inner paths, 
From dangerous margins well aloof. 
He was content, secure, tranquil, and terror- 
proof. 
When night of mind closed in, in later time, 
No murmur 'scaped him, — patient to the last. 
Serenely still he lived ; and now is where all 
ills are past. 



76 



MINE. 

Two women mine. One by my birth to her, — 

Precious, — my mother. 

One by election, — ivife of my choice. 

Two women mine, nor need of another ; 

Two, such as these two, better than nine. 

One with eyes of blue — blue as heaven's 

azure — 
Bent o'er my cradle in days now long past ; 
Watched o'er my babyhood, childhood, and 

manhood, 
With simple devotion of love to the last. 

Innocent she of the world's lure and fashion ; 
Stern toward all folly and sin of mankind ; 
Careless of straying outside of her duties ; 
These filled the chalice of her guileless mind. 
True to her own, her God, and her nearest. 
Home to two of us truly was she. 
Without her what comfort, the wide world 

over ! 
What comfort without her to father and me ! 



n 
MINE 

Mine. When years sped, came a maiden to 

love me, 
To sit by my hearth-stone, and be my heart's 

bride. 
Thine are ideals, highest and purest. 
Severest and noblest, my true and my tried. 
Strenuous to right a whole world's perversity, 
Yet nimble with wit sparkling swift from thy 

tongue. 

Oh, my heart's darling, sorely should I miss 

thee! 
Thy care ever constant, thy love ever strong. 



78 



A. P. G. 

Came to my home a small boy, — my Arthur, — 
Stayed with us months only, — three times 

three ; 
Learned a few pretty ways or brought them 

with him, 
Quite entertaining to his mamma and me ; 
Reached out his hand for kiss, — royally sure 

of one ; 
Got it, too, royally, punctual as day. 
Went to ride mornings, like prince in his glory, 
Papa his donkey, drawing his shay. 
Both of us liked it. Well I remember 
Pulling up Powder Horn, steep to its height ; 
Gazed off on ocean spread out below us. 
What did you think of it, baby bright ? 
Think of it ? Never shall that be recorded. 
Silent thy sage lips as sphinx on the sand. 

An evening one August he rode away from 

me, — 
Months three times three, — to Immanuel's 

land. 



79 



WISH TO BE YOUNG. 

Wish to be young, when hair is gray, 

Doesn't pay. 
Remembered things of long ago, 
Now glim'ring bright in sunrise glow 
With gladness, that we used to know, 

Would not be so. 
If set our feet were there again, 

Now we are men. 
Sameness so sought is not the same. 
Some fatal difference, hard to name, 
Has changed all without our blame. 
Something we miss that used to be. 
Something intrudes on memory. 
Chiefly ourselves are altered, too. 
Bringing to old scenes something new. 
So same is not the same to view. 

Oh, backward wish not to be set ; 
No rest is there. We ne'er can get 
What was without entanglement. 

Forward let wishes rove alway. 
Wish to be young, when hair is gray, 
Doesn't pay. 



So 



A JUNE SHOWER. 

Big, big drops that fall, 

Thunder behind them, 
Shaking them noisily 

Out of their cloud. 
Earth drinks them greedily, 

Fast as they come to her ; 
Thunder behind them 

Grumbling aloud. 

Thirsty the grasses were, 

Parched and weary ; 
Now they look up 

With freshlier mien. 
" Now, life's worth living," 

Seem they to whisper. 
Thanks to the thunder, 

Thanks to the rain. 



8i 



THEOLOGY'S RIDDLE. 

Who would relieve cannot: 
Who could relieve does noty 
Is all we can say. 

Theology's riddle 1 
Who'll read it 
Or heed it, 
Pray ? 

Oh, the pains we'd assuage 

If we could ; 
Which God could allay 

If He would ! 

If in time 

Unsolved it be, 
Ponder it again 

In eternity. 



82 



NOSTALGIA. 

A lady voyaged over the sea, 
Enamored of far lands that be 
Lands of romance and mystery. 
Would see the sphinx and sail the Nile, 
And bask in Syrian suns awhile ; 
Then realize her girlhood dream 
Of Tempe's vale and Avon's stream. 

She sailed, this lady, 'cross the deep ; 
But, as she sailed, began to weep 
Salt tears, that vied with ocean's brine : 
For home so sorely she 'gan pine, — 
Faces that distance made more dear ; 
Voices far sailed from over mere. 

Homesick, when 'rived the ocean o'er, 
Her foot she would not set on shore ; 
And, when return the ship did make. 
Went with her back, lest heart should break. 

Not all do so ; but so did she, 

Whose world was home and her own countrie. 



83 



MY HEART AND I. 

My heart and I are lonely ; 

We sleep, and wake, and rhyme ; 
We've passed the years of youth and cheer 

And manhood's golden prime. 

My heart and I : we've come 

To where deep shadows lie ; 
And we like shadows seem 

Ourselves, — my heart and I. 

O shadowy, shadowy world ! 

My heart and I, let's grapple on 1 
Do not the depths of shadow 

Prove there is a sun ? 



84 



GOLDEN MOTIVE. 

Motive loving, pure, and true, 
Error's mists will struggle through, 
Words and acts that gave us pain, 
Hard to reconcile, or explain. 
Fall away like burrs from trees ; 
Melt as ice in tepid seas ; 
Disappear as nettles do, 
If motive still was ever true. 

That remains^ when all is shed, — 
Clear revealed, ruby red, 
Precious^ single, and immortal. 
Whole life through to heavenly portal. 
Motive loving, pure, and true, 
Error's mists will struggle through. 



8s 



I COULDN'T ABIDE, OH! 

Plenty of kinds of work there be, 

Plainly enough not meant for me, — 

No affinity for them whatever. 

Yet good are the people who in them are 
clever, 

Who wonder at work they see me preferring 

As my dog, maybe, does at Tabby's pur-purr- 
ing, 

Or as Tabby, in turn, at bow-wowing of Fido. 

Half peoples' work I couldn't abide, Oh I 



86 



DESPAIR. 

There is a comfort in despair ; 

It's ultimate, past hoping. 

No prickly possibility says, " Up, 

Climb ; chance glimmers ; don't sit moping." 

The lazy bone has rest despair on, 

Without compunction, as on a bed. 

Afraid not now of further trouble. 

Rests there the weary head. 

For hoping against hope. 

Worse than despair is double. 



87 



WHICH TO CHOOSE. 

When a good time is over, what then ? 

One drops and droops sedately. 
When an ill time is over, what then ? 

He smiles, as he had not lately. 

If good ends in ill, and ill in good, 
Which will you choose, my brother ? 

It rather evens it, after all. 

As six of one and six of the other. 



SB 



NO SINGLENESS. 

One sorrow seemed all. It has no brother, 

I thought, till it had passed away, 

When, lo, behind it crouched another 

Hid by it from me yesterday. 

There, there it frowned, another, grim and 

lone. 
It also passed, when I had made my moan. 
Then, O my soul, a third woe hove in view. 
That had been hid by trouble number two. 



I think I grew suspicious now of single ill, 
And dreaded more a hill behind a hill. 



I had a joy^ that seemed alone and vast ; 

It did not stay, but passed. 

Now joy I've none, I wailed ; 

But, groping where its glory stood, 

I found a second joy as good, 

Which recognized soon prevailed. 

And when this also faded quite. 

It showed other star in deeper night. 



89 

NO SINGLENESS 

I think I less suspicious grew 
Finding a passing joy let other joy shine 
through. 

No single bliss or single woe 
Appointed is to mortals here below. 



90 



EAST WIND. 

Wind in the East, this morning, 

Right from the stormy Atlantic ; 
Chill to the bone is its breath, 

Freezing each impulse romantic. 

For somehow, through crack and through crev- 
ice 

Of all that in us is mortal, 
It searches the soul^ which, shrinking. 

Cowers 'hind its growlery portal. 

And every house is a Bleak House, 
With Jaundice and Jaundice within. 

The wind's in the East, 

And, if we are, God pardon our sin. 



91 



IN OR OUT. 

Are you playing, friend, or not? 
You are in ? So I tho't. 
I am not; I'm out. 
My dear. 
Do you hear ? 
I'm not i?i, but ottf. 

Am I playing, friend, or not ? 

I am in ? So you tho't. 

You are not ; you're out. 

My dear, 

Do you hear ? 

You're not in, but out. 

Here a difference is, no doubt. 
In life's work as in its play 

There's this bother : 
Some are in, but some are out. 
The points of view are other. 



92 



CHANGE. 

Why run life in a single groove ? 

Same things, same, — same over and over ? 
So variations of them prove 

Rarer than four-leaved clover. 

Why at fifty be still in the rut 

Worn by one old-fashioned wagon ; 

Or grind your grist in same mill put, 

And market the same with the same old tag 
on? 

Why not a year or so break loose. 

Or peaceably untie your tether ? 
Ceasing to hunt the same old goose, 

Try shot at bird of other feather. 

Life is long enough to test 

Several kinds of work and scenery 

'Fore we take our final rest 

Under nature's various greenery. 



93 



LEST WE REMEMBER. 

"Lest we forget," is warning timely. 
In rhyme heroic sounds sublimely ; 
For prone the best are to heed not 
Lessons by sage experience taught. 

Lest we reme^nber, too, might be 

Theme of noble poesy, — 

Remember wrongs of long ago, 
Remember woefully each woe, 
Remember words that wounded sore,. 
To answer them with words galore. 
And so on Pelion, Ossa pile. 
Were to forget not well worth while ? 

Lest we remember ! Sometimes we 
Will take to heart this homily. 



94 



EXPERIMENT. 

A day to live, — province enough for me. 
To spy its chances with alert glances, 
Wondering each morning what will be. 
Experiment all. A new country, — 
Time untrod — much to explore ; 
Something never met before. 
What will open to my sight, 

From morn to night ? 
O my day ! If I could find 

(But I'm blind) 
What thou showest and what thou hidest, 
Rich I'd be, outstripping Midas ! 
O Experience, make me wiser, 
Keen to spy each day the prize, or 
Door that opens somehow to it ; 
To see what may be done and do it, 

And never rue it. 
To-day my province I '11 explore it ; 
Not ignore and not deplore it. 



95 



IN SEASON. 

Smell no flower before it blooms ; 

Wait its season. 
Smell no flower after it fades, 

For the same reason. 
When it opens, quick be there, 

Ere it closes ; 
Never blossom mission had for 

Belated noses. 
All things so their seasons keep; 

Punctual come and go. 
'Tween whiles what they offer take ; 

Don't be late or slow. 
Most of the year nothing is 

On tree or bush : 
Watch, and when there something is,- 

Make a rush. 

Take this piece of wisdom gratis — 
Naught, for who too soon or late is. 



96 



THAT "WHO KEEPS A DOG NEED 
NOT BARK HIMSELF." 

The bark of a dog, like the bark of a tree, 

Is part of the creature constitutionally. 

Don't tread on his province, or bark on it 
rather. 

As well shave your barber with his own lather ; 

Or cry for your baby, that cries 'nough for 
seven ; 

Or retail divinity to saints up in heaven. 

If your dog does the barking, talk like a Chris- 
tian. 

Dog-duty youVe none ; make him do all. 

Perfect reUef from all canine function ; 

Else, why keep a dog, prithee, at all ? 



97 



WAITING. 

Waiting harder than working, 

When no more is to do, 
To sit down with hands 

That are folded, 
To see what 'twill all 

Amount to ; 
Whether seed sown will quicken, 

Grow, and abound, 
Or whether labor is wasted 

Under the ground. 

Waiting for things that are striven for 

Patiently still, 
Tests the heart of the worker more than 

Climbing the hill ; 
More than beating the bush, more than 

Threshing the rye, 
More than treading the wine press, more than 

To do and to die. 

Waiting, when life's work is over, 
For the reprieve. 



98 
WAITING 

Days gliding slowly by without 

Leave to leave. 
Sitting idling the time 

Far from the goal, — 
Waiting, waiting, waiting 

Release of the soul. 

Waiting, as working, will end^ 

Too, bye and bye. 
That is the goal of waiting, — 

Permission to die. 



99 



SIMULTANEOUSNESS. 

While I sit, pen in hand, 

Sun shines ; winds blow ; 
Rivers run ; birds fly ; 

Cattle browse ; grasses grow 
Sky's blue ; leaves rustle ; 

Seas sparkle ; fishes swim ; 
Mountains tower ; far below 

Shadows darkle, 
Dusk and dim. 



People breathe, 

And work, and rest, 
And walk, and run. 

And eat, and drink, 
And wear good clothes, 

And rugged, too ; 
And sigh, and wish, 

And even think ; 
And cheat, and fawn, 

And cry and laugh ; 
In spots eat husks 

As prodigals ; 

LofC. 



SIMULTANEOUSNESS 

In spots, the 
Fatted calf. 

At once, and ever, all things 

Come and go, simultaneous. 
Who remembers this is so ? 



lOI 



LOVE'S APPEAL. 

Come Love, come : 
Pilgrim from afar, 
In thy shining car, 
From some radiant star. 

Come, Love, come. 

A heart awaits thee here, 
A heart that holds thee dear, 
A heart that wants thee near. 

Come, Love, come. 

Hearest thou my cry ? 

Ere its echoes die 

In yon empty sky. 
Come, Love, come. 



102 



THE SUMMER SEA. 

I sit me down by the summer sea 

On a cliff o'erlooking the ebbing tide, 
And see a hundred sail, maybe. 

Into the glimmering distance glide. 
And my thoughts go with them far away 

To islands dim, I know not where ; 
Where it is summer every day, 

And fronded palms in tropic air. 

An hour I sit by the summer sea, 

Nor heed the time till an hour is sped ; 
For the sea and the sail are eternity, 

And I as one of the blessed dead. 
O, the summer sea ! O, the summer sea ! 

And a cliff o'erlooking its tidal flow. 
And a hundred sail, — that carry me 

Wherever my wind-blown fancies go. 



I03 



MONOTONY. 

Once is good, and twice, and thrice, 

Then, somehow, we weary. 
Monotony's a bore, no doubt, 

Both dull and dreary. 
One tone, one tune. 

One pain, one pleasure. 
O break the spell ! 

Vary the measure. 
E'en ill is good 

That changes ration, 
And good is ill 

By dire rotation. 



I04 



ILLUSION. 

I've dreamed a dream more real 

Than house or fort or tree. 
My soul has builded on it 

A solid masonry. 
Yet this is called illusion : 

The other fact, 'tis true ; 
Yet nothing of the fact came 

So far as I ever knew. 
While in my dream ideas were 

Bright jewels of a crown, 
To shine when house and fort and tree 

Have fallen down. 



los 



CHARM. 

" — The untaught strain, 
That sheds beauty on the rose." 

Emerson. 

Charm of things, of deeds, of words. 
Charm of beauty, charm of people,— 
Who'll define the magic spell? 
Charm of the ear in evening bell 
PYom some far-off churchly steeple. 

Witchery of sound, of sense, of sight. 
Of face, of form, of love, of light. 
Which is, and straightway down we kneel ; 
WhichV ?iot, and turn we on our heel. 
Careless of reason, rhyme, or right. 

So charm be gone,— the rose's dower 
" Untaught," imperial in the flower : 
So charm be gone I Who cares to stay ? 
All, saint and sinner, turn away. 



io6 



USE OF THE UNUSED. 

Dollars I never spend 

Are not in vain. 
What misery spending were 

Did naught remain. 

The mile I need to walk 

I walk secure, 
Because if need were more 

Strength would endure. 

The earth unpeopled is 

O'er regions wide, 
Without which where men dwell 

They'd not abide. 

Dear friends of mine there be 

I seldom greet ; 
But what they are to me 

Is ever sweet. 

The whole of love is taxed 
In service never ; 



I07 

USE OF THE UNUSED 

Its vaster self is still 
A joy forever. 

Thanks for the unused part 

Of all below, 
Supporting still the used. 

'Tis no vain show. 



io8 



JUNE 17. 

Defeat that we celebrate, 

Braver than victory ; 
Rue for a crown, 

Than laurel more rare. 
Proving the stuff that 

Heroes are made of, — 
Earnest of triumph, 

Not of despair. 

Hope for a people 

Crushed not by slaughter, 
Seeing that spilled blood 

Is mightiest appeal. 
Louder than trumpet blare 

Stirring the souls of men : 
Freedom's glad harbinger, 

Liberty's seal. 



109 



BURRS. 

Useful burrs to what's inside, 

As to rhinoceros his hide. 

Nothing fine or good to eat, 

That needs not shelter from the street,- 

Picket fence, or barbbd wire, 

'Tween small boy and his desire. 

Talent, too, and genius rare. 
Public claim would seldom spare. 
Did no burr their gift surround. 
Or gobhn guard protect its ground. 

Common, rough, and undesired 
Must seem the prophet most inspired, 
Till his message ready be ; 
Then bursts the burr and sets him free. 



no 



OVER THE BORDER. 

Thoughts flit over the border 
To a world where dreams abide. 

They hover where no recorder 
Reports their wanderings wide. 

Poetry, these, for poets 

Whose spirits to them fly, — 

Over the border to them. 
Beyond earth's boundary. 

Never in rhyme they're captured, 

So very rathe they be. 
Seen only by souls enraptured 

In tranced ecstacy. 



Ill 



RESTLESSNESS. 

Inherited, — a heart, that loved to rove ; 
That slid from this to that, and thence again, 
Nor rested anywhere, because itself was daft 
To stir, — to change its place if keep its pain. 
Rest is not rest to restlessness, I w^een, 
But motion rather, answering its desire : 
Motion its courier, over hill and plain ; 
A moving pillow, moving lest it tire 
The head, that thinks away to distant place, 
And wearies most at slowest pace. 



112 



ON THE TRACK. 

The car runs smoothly on the track 

For many and many a year. 

A moment off; a wreck it Hes, beyond re- 
pair; 

And Hves go hurtling to the void 

That rode secure before : 

And souls are in Eternity, — 

Their earth rides all are o'er. 

Because a moment off the track 

The buzzing carriage shied, — 

Effect of something left amiss ; 
And so they died. 

Oh, souls of men 1 The heavenly laws in 

parallels do lie ! 
Upon them speed we to our goal. 
We leave them but to die. 
Upon the track we glide to heaven, 
And get there passing well : 
While off the track we glide. 
And get to — somewhere else — 

To . 



113 



NOTHING. 

Nothing to-day, please : 

Nothing to-day. 
Nothing we think, 

Nothing we say. 
Blessed be nothing. 

Nothing is bad 
Only when something 

Is to be had. 
Rhyme we of nothing 

With idle pen. 
To nothing will nobody 

Say Amen ? 



114 



WHAT ARE YOU GOOD FOR? 

People still are people, 

Variously made, 
As rocks of different quarries 

Or grasses blade from blade. 
Sending these to school 

With lessons same, 
Doesn't alter structure, 

Brawn, or brain. 
Only labels them alike, with 

One misfitting name. 

People still are people. 

Good for what they be; 
Good for nothing other, 

On the land or sea. 

Heavy one as lead. 

Light as cork his brother ; 
Light as cork his head. 

To put to tasks the same 

Is egregious folly 1 
Civilization's special 

Melanchoty. 



IIS 
WHAT ARE YOU GOOD FOR? 

Go to one for what he is, — 

He's your man. 
Go to him for what he isn't, 

All flashes in the pan. 

One is good to laugh with, 

One to help you groan, 
One to hug his coppers, 

One his gold to loan. 

One doth taste of acids, — 
Make you shut your eye ; 

One so sickly sweet is, 
As to make you cry. 

One is like a gooseberry, 

One is like a goose. 
One is hke a weasel, 

One is like a moose. 

If what mortal is doesn't please, 

Go the earth around. 
But leave him at his ease. 
Nature gives all place, 

People's well as things : 
If thou likest bird-song, 

Find the bird that sings. 



ii6 



KNOWING. 

We know that some time, soon or late, 

Certain event will fall ; 
But, somehow, knowing of it so, 

Prepareth for it not at all. 

We live and live from year to year, 
Then sudden it swoops down. 

It holds us in its fatal grip, 

It has us now upon the hip, 
Boots not to fret or frown. 

Submission / what has come at length. 
We long had known would come ; 

But never knew about it much, 

Until it had us in its clutch, 
And sudden struck us dumb. 



117 



HILLS. 

Against the light of east or western skies, 
After the set of sun or e'er he rise, 
How bold do contours of the hills appear, 
Defined so clear, 
Some far, some near. 
Silent, broad-based, their bending forms 

crouch low ; 
In spring robed green, in winter dight with 

snow. 
What limned beauty do their shapes disclose. 
Moulded by time in nature's perfect mould. 
O artist, look ! their bosomed grace so rare, 
'Gainst gold of morn or eve, — 
Hill contours — far and fair. 



ii8 



WIND. 

Moving air, — on through space, — 
Driving, whither ? in a race ; 
Felt his breath upon my face. 

Goes he by in gusts and breezes, 
Fast or loitering, as he pleases ; 
Warms he now ; and now he freezes. 

Perfumed breath from fields of flowers, 
Saturate breath of storms and showers ; 
Salt-sea breath enabling ours. 

Wind, too windy please not be ; 
Gently blow o'er wold and lea. 
Leave leaf on tree, and hat on me. 

But, if you will blow, blow you will ! 
Broom of the air, S7veep vale and hill ; 
When all is clear and clean, be still. 



119 



THE RIGHT SIDE OF SORROW. 

Something past and over. 

The right side of sorrow 

Is yesterday, — not to-morrow. 

Oh, the ills departed 

Leave us so light-hearted ! 

Sleep they 'neath their gravestones. 

Sow we o'er them roses 

Where each ill reposes. 

Jesus died, — that's over. 
Calvary left behind him I 
No more pain to bind him : 
Clear the way before him. 

Something past and over. 

The right side of sorrow 

Is yesterday, — not to-morrow. 



120 



VOYAGE OR PORT. 

Which is better, voyage or port ? 
Sailing, sailing over the sea, 
Bound for haven over the deep, 
Or snugly to lie in land-locked lee 
Of hills whose shelterings eternal be. 
Which is better, — voyage or port? 



Voyage. O the pleasure of prospect, of hope ! 
Tumultuously riding the dark billows o'er ; 
Romance in the heart — glad vision of lands, 
Where orange and palm trees skirt a far 

shore 
Whose boughs in birds nestle of plumage so 

fine. 
Where days are all beauty and nights all 

divine, 
Where graces and muses hold their high court. 
Is voyage to such blisses not better than port ? 

Or is the port better ? Sail furled, anchor cast, 
A home not to roam from, but rest in for aye. 



121 

VOYAGE OR PORT 

Sweet comfort that settles down somewhere at 

last, 
Wild roving from pillar to pole overpast. 

Methinks voyage is better than port, till night 

falls ; 
Port better than voyage when the curfew calls. 



122 



THAT NO TASK IS ONE. 

When nothing the task is, 
That's task much as any. 

At school with hands folded 
Sit Tommy and Benny. 

Work hard at books 

Keeps them less busy, 
Them and their sisters, — 

Susie and Lizzie. 

When tasks of something 

And nothing are over. 
Then boys and girls smell 

Daisies and clover. 



123 



WE PLAN AND PLAN. 

We plan and plan in complex-wise 

A labyrinth of folly ; 
Plan on plan, as alp on alp, 

To reach which futile wholly, 
For, ere the time planned for possession, 
Things take a turn in retrocession : 
Face us about and set us going 
Cloudward, skyward, past our knowing, 
Dropping us in lands sequestered. 
Far to northward, eastward, westward. 
Where our plans so complex-wise 
Nowhere greet our banished eyes. 



124 



POPPIES. 

Tinsel bloom of poppy fair 

Feeds the eyes with color bright. 
Queens of Ethiop well might wear 

Such airy crowns of light. 
Oh, the poppied fields of flame 

Over Europe's broad expanse ! 
Scarlet wdld putting to shame 

Dame Fashion's flaunts of gayest France. 
Cleopatra of the plain, 

Fatal fair thy gay decoys : 
MilHons thy Mark Antonys, 

Captives of thy poppied joys. 
Yet to eye no petals shine 

More innocently bright than thine. 



125 



" Deep, as deep in water sinks a stone." 

Swittbunie. 



That is how deep hope drops 

When it falls off the edge of the soul, 

Down into dim abysses, 

Sinking and sinking ; 

And where it stops sinking 

Nobody sees, for this is 

Hid 'neath the deep billows' roll, — 

Deeper than seeing or thinking. 

That is how deep hope drops, 

When it falls off the edge of the soul. 



26 



YOUR TWO EYES. 

We see the same world, you and I, 
Thro' different pairs of eyes ; 

So what we see is not the same, 
To your and my surprise. 

For when our seeings we compare 
And talk them freely over, 

Our talk is neither here nor there, 
As you saw pimpernel, I clover. 



127 



TWO TOWNS. 

Two towns contiguous lie upon the map, 
As letters A and B in alphabet, 
In county Plymouth of the old Bay State ; 
Whence the paternal and maternal ancestors, 
Whose blood and instincts made my own, 
Bringing I know not what from these environ- 
ments ; 
So that, where'er I go or stay, no doubt 
These towns contiguous in me stay or go, 
And in some mystic sort live, breathe, 
Muse, think, and work ; and, when I die, 
Will pass diffused into the spirit realms, 
Reporting so at length from A and B, 
In county Plymouth of the Old Bay State, to 
God. 



28 



BEGINNING — FINISHING. 

All began : so did we. 

Some were glad at our infancy. 

We began breathing, waking, sleeping, 

Eating, drinking, crying, creeping, 

Walking, running, learning from books, 

Playing with marbles, fishing with hooks. 

All began ; so did we. 

Some were glad at our infancy. 

We who began, mw^t ffiish, too. 
That's what remains for us to do, — 
Finish breathing, waking, sleeping, 
Eating, drinking, crying, creeping, 
Walking, working, learning from books, 
Playing with marbles, fishing with hooks. 
We who began must finish, too : 
That's what remains for us to do. 



129 



LIFE A RIDDLE. 

What is life for ? Sometimes I wonder, 
See not the good oft. What does't avail ? 

If it were not, as not it soon will be. 

What were the difference? Do seas miss 
a sail ? 

White on the waves of it, lo 1 how it glistens ; 

Anon, where it was we behold it no more : 
Ocean's as great without it as with it; 

More lonesome, may be, but grand as be- 
fore. 

Life that we live here, riddle thou art to me ; 

Sphinx of the sands, with lips sealed for aye. 
What is life for ? Sometimes I wonder. 

Perhaps God could tell me his own silent 
way. 

Life is for something ; try to believe it, 
Brief as mysterious though it may be. 

Life is for something. When we are past it 
What is that something wise ones may see. 



130 



FIT THAT BEFITS. 

Whatyf/^ is so far good, we may be sure, 

E'en tho' its quality be poor ; 

Tho' it be worn and out at elbow, 

It almost even looketh well so. 

True to all contours of the body 

One fairly looks in cloth of shoddy ; 

While, if in broadcloth texture A i, 

You pay big prices to array one. 

Yet manage so \.ofit him illy, 

A clown he looks on Piccadilly. 

Yet, fit is not of structure merely, 

To fit complexion something nearly ; 

To fit the eyes, the hair, the skin. 

To fit besides the soul within, 

Passes oft the tailor's art ; 

Who fails to fit some unseen part 

For lack of which no vest allures, 

Or fashion comeliness secures. 



131 



ISN'T IT SAD, OH? 

Once I was nothing but a thought in mind of 

one — or two ; 
For born I wasn't then, my friend, was you ? 
Thought must have been indefinite of who 

I'd be,— 
A problematic boy — or girl, might be. 
But on March lo 'twas settled clear, 
On March of — no matter of what year. 
And since I verses write, and cast a shadow, — 
I, who before was nought : 
Nought but a hopeful — thought 
Of one or two. 
Isn't it sad, Oh .? 



32 



A BLACK KITTEN. 

Frisky little blackness, 

Tail up on high, 
Art thou aware 

Cats, too, must die ? 
When you're a cat, sedate 

As a deacon, 
Then you'll realize this 

That I speak on. 
But not yet awhile, — 

No, no, no ! 
After your tail again ; 

Don't be slow. 
If I was a black little 

Kit like you. 
Spite of mortality. 

That's what I'd do, — 

And catch it, too. 



133 



ACCESS. 

Some things distant be, so far, — 

Far aloof as farthest star. 

Some things near as our next neighbor, 

Distant still be as Mt. Tabor. 

Inaccessible, near or far, 

Certain things and people are. 

Some things open be to all : 
Latch-string out for great and small ; 
Inside, outside, all as one ; 
Access free to air and sun. 
So some things and people be 
Extra near and neighborly. 

Both kinds go the world to form, 
To keep us cool and keep us warm. 



134 



A TURTLE. 

Spots on his back as moons on a disk, 
Doesn't know he has 'em, runs no risk 
Of knowing about 'em to his dying day, 
Long as turtles live, and their tails alway. 
No chance of vanity for his old pate. 
We'll admire for him, and never prate. 
If we should tell him how yellow they be, 
He might put on airs like Count Castellane. 



135 



"The soft blue sky did never melt 
Into his heart. He never felt 
The witchery of the soft blue sky." 

Wordsworth. 



Poor Peter Bell ! Above thee, too, 

The heavenly deeps did rise, — 
Divinely deep, divinely blue, 

Divinely " soft blue " skies. 
Of what avail ? No influence thence 

Into thy spirit stole. 
The sky, so softly, deeply blue. 

Ne'er melted in thy soul. 
So didst thou live, and so didst die ; 

And what thou missed didst never know. 
Above thy dust skies still are blue. 

And ever will be so. 



136 



A THOUGHT WORLD. 

There is a world within, 
Where thoughts, not things, abide, 
World we carry with us, 
Whether we walk or ride 
Or sit or stand or sleep, — 
World with hands not made 
As in a heaven of dreams 
Where thoughts are all the trade. 

Thoughts, silent, come and go 
Like sun and shade. 
Thoughts of gloom that sadden, 
Thoughts of light that gladden. 
Thoughts of love that madden, 
Thoughts of all complexions, 
Features, and connections, 
Grave and gay wit/ii?t, 
Neither weave nor spin. 
But live their life alway. 

Outward world of things 

Soon we shall dismiss. 
Will the world of thoughts 

Then be all there is ? 



137 



MY PRAYER. 

Give me, O Lord, from day to day, 

Grace to live calmly, come what may, 

To keep with even step the smooth or rugged 

way. 
Teach me, O Teacher, how to trim my sail 
When storm is on the deep. When to a gale 
Winds roughen, billows beat, let fears then not 

prevail. 
O let me see when roads familiar close, 
And what way next no wisdom of mine knows, 
A glimmering light, that one step 'fore me 

glows. 
Leave me not, Lord, in this dark world of 

sin 
Without some witness of thy love within. 
Without some strength divine on which to 

lean. 
When comes the closure in of all things dear, 
Let me still in the darkness thy voice hear. 
Till shadows flit and heavenly shores appear. 



138 



VACANT HOUSES. 

Gone are the people, 
Summering somewhere 
By mountain and sea. 
Nobody knows wherever they be. 

Here are their houses, though, 
Standing disconsolate. 
Emptily, where of late 
All was tenanted, 
Busy, and free. 

What is the difference ? 
No one but feels it. 
One glance reveals it 
To thee and to me. 
Loneliness lurks in 
The houses deserted, 
Haunts vacant rooms whence 
People have fled. 

Nobody, nobody, 
Nobody stirring, 



139 
VACANT HOUSES 

Stand here the houses 
As graves of the dead. 

Oh, what do souls do 

Inside our dwelUngs ? 

As behind faces, under our vests 

And under our laces, — 

A boon to the public, — 

Joy, brightness, and cheer, — 

These are all here, 

Till gone are the people, 

Then houses are drear. 



140 



LIMBO. 

When the heart with tendrils groping 

Blindly forth in vacant spaces, 

Seemeth as one vainly hoping 

Something tangible and stable, — 

What or where or when, unable 

To imagine, — then in Limbo lost we be, 

Till something wanted^ through the gloaming 

Seen is, near or distantly. 

Ceases then the soul's vague roaming ; 

Go we for it instantly. 



41 



WEALTH. 

When I was young 

My wealth was people^ 

Who furnished bed and board 

Good as I now afford. 

Now I provide myself 

From my own shelf. 

But they who were my wealth before 

Are gone from sea and shore. 

You may depend on't 

This is the end on't. 



142 



BALANCE. 

Scales that tip 

When nothing's weighed 
Rightly nothing weigh. 

Poise of mind essential is. 
Else what we say, 

Seeming light or heavy, 
Has no warrant. 

That judgment balance needs 
Is apparant. 

Balance in Nature's 

Half the game : 
In music and in 

Art the same, 
This offset by that, — 

Time by rhyme. 
Without poise and 

Counterpoise 
All goes lame. 



143 



INEVITABLE. 

When it comes to that, 
Take it as from God. 

Challenge what you can. 
What can't be withstood, 

Give accommodation ; 

Build in it your nest, 
As bird in rocky cleft, — 

Safest so and best. . 



144 



I WONDER. 

Life goes where when it goes out, 

I wonder ? 
Where goes flame when away it flares ? 
Where goes hght when it disappears ? 
Where goes sound from human ears, 
Loud as thunder ? 
When 'tis gone, where 's it gone, 

I wonder ? 



145 



LIMIT AND LIBERTY. 

Can is a word dynamic, 

It goes as far as it can. 
There it meets its limit, 

Powerless beyond a span. 
Each carries in himself 

An unseen tether, 
Which lets him freely to its length 

In any kind of weather ; 
But then reminds him, with a jerk, 

His can is over. 
Whose tether is to Coventry 

Can't stretch it out to Dover. 
Fins give to fishes, peerless boon, 

Dominion of the sea ; 
But hold them there in aqueous prison ; 

In air, on shore no liberty. 
Each can within his Nature's scope, 

With free permission ; 
Outside he cannot, — peasant or pope : 

His cue's submission. 



146 



NANTASKET. 

Surf-crested sands looking out o'er the sea ; 

Shell-tinted volutes ; curves a mile long, 
Forming and faiUng perpetually ; 

Wave-voice of ocean ; wind-waft of song. 
Far through the sleepy air ships float half 

seen, 
Dream-like, the sky and the water between. 

Up to the sun a million waves sparkle ; 

Under, the shadows twinkle and darkle. 
Horizon and shore the grand prospect's frame 

is. 
Nantasket, Nantasket, Nantasket its name is. 



147 



SURF. 

Handsome from shore it looketh, — 

Spray blown white on the shoal,- 
Telleth of opposition 

'Neath where the billows roll ; 
Resenteth the sea resistance 

In jargon of frantic surf ; 
Foam of the white waves, chanting 

Challenge to aught upon earth, 
That dareth dispute his dominion,- 

Kingly, divine right by birth. 

So in our souls it fareth. 

On reef of Norman's woe, 
Surf of the soul pronounceth 

Its unavailing veto. 



148 



THE DOOR. 

Uncles and aunts, nearly a score, 
Once were mine, but now are no more. 
Well provisioned for life, I thought. 
Life continues, but they do not. 
Stepped they out — nearly a score — 
Through one and the selfsame door. 
The door is left ; now they be gone, 
For thee and me some future morn. 
When we've gone, too, the door will stand, 
Till last inhabitant leaves the land. 



149 



GOING NOWHERE. 

A very good walk that way, 

When business is down. 
It leads direct to — No Matter — 

A Nowhere town. 
You go and go at your feet's pleasure ; 
Not straight or fast, but at your leisure. 
And should you chance arrive after sundown, 
In any Nowhere town, 'twill be No Matter. 



I50 



HAIR. 

What a thing hair is, 

World without end. 
What picturesqueness 

It doth lend ; 
'Specially hair of the 

Human head : 
Color any from 

Gray to red. 
How it catches the 

Winds of heaven 
And bloweth corresponding 

Ways, six or seven. 
If hair were let alone 

To grow 
'Twould make a wilderness 

Below. 
Queerest appurtenance 

That's human, 
Whether on child or man 

Or woman. 



151 



EVENTS. 

Events are events to childhood. 

It fathoms not your pain ; 
Its own is quite absorbing ; 

It boots not to explain. 

How a sorrow fits aftother 
Takes years to recognize. 

When a child is old as his elders, 
He first sees as with their eyes. 



152 



LOVED THEE MORE. 

I wish I loved thee more, dear ; 
'Twere such a boon to me. 
'Twould make your every look, dear, 
Redemptive. If I loved thee 

With relish doubly keen, 

What wealth of visits 1 

What golden minutes ! 

'Twould cure my spleen. 



153 



NATURAL SOUNDS. 

Sound of myriad leaves 
Rustling in a breeze 
Through a world of trees : 
Sweeter music to my ear 
Than cathedrals ever hear. 

Sense of multitude comes o'er me ; 
Cups of cool delight they pour me ; 
No discordant note to bore me : 
Mystic sense of viewless bands, 
Minstrel harps in fairy hands. 

And the i7isect choir that fills 
Evening's ear with tiny trills, — 
Sound-full silence of the hills : 
Sweeter music to my ear 
Than cathedrals ever hear. 

Sound of waters lapsing down 
Through some brooklet of the town, 
Or some river of renown 
To listening flags upon the banks 
Babblino[ thanks. 



154 
NATURAL SOUNDS 

Rattling rai7i upon the ground ; 
On the roof big drops that sound, 
While the chimneys 'neath resound, 
As pianos grew outside, 
And Paderewskis there did bide. 

Sound of winds around the eaves, 
Plaints of banshee ill at ease. 
Through shut blinds and crevices, — 
Minor soul sounds wandered far 
From ocean cave and evening star. 

Rumblings of thunder in the cloud, 
Titan's ninepins in a crowd; 
Hit by fire-balls tumbhng loud 
In the bowHng places high, — 
Alleys vast and halls of sky. 

Music of the spheres to me, 
Orchestra and symphony, 
Nature's infinite melody : 
Sweeter music to my ear 
Than cathedrals ever hear. 



155 



PERSPECTIVE. 

On the hill yonder a woodman bends, 

Felling a tree, with steel that glistens. 
Felling the tree is all he does ? 

Hark 1 he knows not somebody listens. 
Somebody does, tho.' : heeds the axe, 

Hears its echoes, sees its gleam ; 
Sees the woodman 'mid the trees ; 

Sees the hill, the vale, the stream. 

Felling the tree is all he does ? 

Thinks so he : not so do I. 
Makes he music on the breeze ; 

Something human there so high. 
Makes with vale and hill and trees 

Picture no Claude could glorify. 

O, Perspective ! Woodman, know 

You are part of all you see ; 
Doing more with axe you wield 

Than felling yonder tree. 



156 



INACCESSIBLE. 

Could not reach it hitherto. 

In the distance far could spy it, 
Too far and high for foot of mine 

To venture nigh it. 
The life I would viost like to live, 

The gods deny it. 

To something else I speed. 

Nearer, less enchanting 
(May serve to while the time 

In Heu of better granting) ; 
The othei% though forbidden, 

Fancy still kept haunting. 

Worked long years 

At task I would not. 
Longing still for 

That I could not ; 
Thinking this may 

Bring me nearer 
To the Hfe I 

Counted dearer. 



157 
INACCESSIBLE 

From some stile 

Admit me to it 
That, if late, I 

Still might do it. 

When the day came for transition 
(For it came by heaven's permission), 

Was I glad, too ? 

Aye, and sad, too. 
Left the old path, — 

'Cause I had to ! 
For the life I once so longed for, 

Now tho' beautiful as ever, 

Opening to my endeavor, 
Wedded to old duties found me. 
So, when burst the bands that bound me, 
Glad I was, and sorry, too. 
To live as most I wanted to. 



IS8 



LEISURE. 

Work is good, but leisure is, sometimes, too ; 
And then we do the most when least we do. 
Is sitting still a sin ? How few the sinners ! 
More frisk and fret and bolt their dinners. 

Sometimes an object smiply I would be. 
Like rocks, or cattle drowsing on the lea, 
While winds of heaven blow over me. 
And sun and shade and evening hol}^ 
Adopt me for their own, and still me wholly ; 
And nothing breaks awhile the passive spell. 
This, busy mortal, sometimes pleaseth well. 



159 



SOME AND OTHERS. 

Some like to sit on platforms, 
And somebodies to be, — 

See and be seen, and 
Advertise, " This's we:' 

Others prefer to sit 

In seats more low, 
Where they may simply 

See the show and go. 



i6o 



ALMOST THERE. 

Oh, on journeys of my childhood how my 

heart beat 
When the magic word was spoken, 

''''Almost there I ''^ 
Then erect I sat and listened, all astir from 

foot to hair — 

" Almost there." 
Once towards Glasgow, once towards London, 
Once towards Paris, once towards Rome. 
" Almost there,^^ the courier shouted, 
" Yonder looms St. Peter's dome." 

Oh, my spirit, travel-weary, there's a city 
Than ItaUa's more fair. 
Oh, the rapture, draw we near it ? 
Sweet Evangel, — almost there. 



i6i 



UNPALATABLE GOODNESS. 

Uncomfortably good is somebody 

Whose name I could (but won't) mention. 
He's honest and prudent and temperate, 

Means the best, with purest intention ; 
But the flavor somehow isn't the thing 

(Life's far sweeter without it). 
The tail of his virtue has a sting 

(Once feel it you never can doubt it). 

That is all there is about it. 



1 62 



LITTLE FLY. 
(a fantasy in gossamer.) 

Art thou mortal, 

Little fly ? 
Wings of gauze, 

Like a souPs. 
When you die, 

Live you still, 
Same as I ? 

Think you will ? 

Away you fly. 

Little fly, 

Good-bye. 
Wings of gauze, 
Like a souVs. 



163 



THREE LITTLE GIRLS. 

Out there white at play, 
Full half a mile away ; 
Look like fairies they, — 
Three little girls. 

They ever pout and scold ? 
They not of fairy mould ? 
They ever rude and bold ? 
Three little girls. 

Fair as a picture they, 
Seen half a mile away, 
Out there white at play, — 
Three little girls. 



164 



ANODYNES. 

Pillows and cushions 

Suit us well 

When we are weary. 
Potions and lotions 

Do hkewise, 

When we're teary. 
Softly soothing where was pain, 
Soporific to the brain, 
Nature stores her wealth in mines, 
And her grace in anodynes. 



[65 



AFRAID. 

Afraid — 
Of the snake's fang, the bee's sting; 
Not of Thee, my God and King ! 

Nor of aught that thou dost send. 
Look sorrow in the face. 
Crave his boon and grace, 

Level glances lend. 
Squeeze his hand of might, 

Nothing thee shall harm. 
Black shall turn to white, 

Vain is all alarm. 
Naught but good can be 
From God on land or sea. 

Afraid — 
Of the snake's fang, the bee's sting ^ 
Not of Thee, my God and King. 



66 



BUT FOR A ROOD. 

But for a rood 

I had made the journey. 
By lack of a rood 

I travelled in vain. 
Had I arrived 

All had been victory. 
Why the bells toll 

That rood may explain. 



67 



CHILDREN OF ONE HOME. 

Together. 
As fledglings close in nest, 
By one father blest, 
One mother's love caressed, 
And put at night to rest 
In their little beds, — 
Rows of tired heads. 
Together. 

Scattered. 
'Neath one roof, — no more. 
Left its nursery floor ; 
Passed out of its door. 
Parents gone before. 
Heads laid not in row 
(Save two where the daisies grow). 

Scattered. 



[68 



ALMOST. 

What so tragic as talent, 

Successful within an inch : 
Powerful enough to grapple, 

Never the matter to clinch. 
Always a trifle under 

The fated high-water mark. 
Wing-lift just not able 

To enter heaven's gate with the lark. 
Predestined so forever 

Nothing to bring to pass, 
But dismally register failures ; 

Briefly — to go to grass. 
While some preposterous fellow, 

W^ith somebody to boost. 
Steps on it and above it, — 

Succeeds — and rules the roost. 



169 



GLIMPSES. 

Something less than seeing, 
Something more than not. 

Quick-deHvered glances 
From the eyeball shot, 

At what shuts directly, 

But in time not quite 
To preclude completely 

Penetrative sight. 

Glimpses only. GHmpses, — 
Cracks and keyholes through,- 

Clews and informations 
Parting false from true. 



I70 



THE SPHINX. 

" Still unread is thy riddle." 

How seriously we take thee, 

Friend of the desert sand, 
Because you're silent and big 

In a weary, lonely land. 

Because you're old as Methusalem ; 

Buried, too, up to the breast, 
From Seattle to Jerusalem 

Thou givest the world no rest. 

'Tis the sphinx, the sphinx, forever, 
We're like thee when we're glum. 

And when we're dim of our meanings 
(Which is solemnly true of us — some) ; 

And we're like thee when we're stupid, 

As well as when we are mum. 
And when we're a riddle to solve which 

Strikes our elders and betters dumb. 

O sphinx, 'tis said you're sand-worn, 

Nose quite wasted away ; 
Perhaps like us you're silent 

Because you've nothing to say. 



171 



IMMUNITY. 

In yon orchard, lo ! a tree 
With noble weight of pears, 

Yellow and ruddy-cheeked, 
Most temptingly appears. 

Yet ripen they untasted. 

The fact is they're insipid ; 
Whoever had to eat 

Not envied were, but pitied. 

We shall be let alone 
To grow and ripe and rot, 

If nobody desires 

The taste of what we've got. 

Here is immunity, indeed ; 

If we were more delicious, 
Stolen, we should be, and devoured ; 

They'd skin and slice and dish us. 



172 



NORTH POLE. 

Frozen neighbor, loved of Peary ; 
Science's darling, sweetheart, dearie, 
Up in regions frigid, dreary, — 
A recluse. 

Suitors many long have sought thee ; 
Would give their buttons to have caught thee. 
Or their silver to have bought thee. 
V/hat's the use ? 

Chilly neighbor, spite thy coldness. 
Sundry sailors sail with boldness : 
Get a finger and a toe less, — 
What abuse ! 

On an ice-floe fain would spy thee, 
Or from masthead would descry thee ; 
Pray one prayer, *' Oh, don't deny me." 
Vain the cruise. 



73 



GETTING THROUGH. 

We shall be getting through ; 
Nothing is more true. 
Be it good or ill, 
When we've climbed the hill 
We shall make descent. 
Life will soon be spent. 
When we're through, then rest, 
Sweetest, then, and best. 
After rest, who rises 
Shall see — surprises. 



174 



WHERE GOING? 

People all are going, 
And I wonder where, — 

With dim curious wonder, — 
And what want they there ? 

O, it's none of my business 
Where the people go ; 

Still, where are they going ? 
I'd rather like to know. 



^7S 



CLOUDS HAVE COME OVER. 

Morning woke cheerily. 
Clouds have come over ; 

The sun has hidden his head, 

The east is luridly red ; 
Over the fields of clover 

Rain begins to be shed : 
Prospects look drearily. 

My heart, — it was glad once. 
Clouds have come over, 

Dark on my pathway. 

Dark as this dark day ; 
Soon 'twill be over. 

Always clouds break away 
O'er hearts that were sad once. 



176 



A LOVE OF A MORNING. 

A love of a morning this is, 

An epicure to please, sir. 
It were worse if it were warmer ; 

If 'twere colder we might sneeze, sir. 

But it hits the bull's eye fairly 

(Hope we know when we are suited) ; 
Who Ukes not such as this is 

Should be ostracized and looted 

For not to prize perfection. 

When at its zenith fullness, 
Is sinful, and by exile 

There'd be one more cynic fool less. 



177 



WHERE LIV'ST THOU? 

Where liv'st thou, friend, 

When at home ? 
Near Bow Bells or 

Eternal Rome ? 

Where Love broodeth 

Evermore ? 
Or by Hate's 

Lethean shore ? 

Where care carks like 

Rusty hinge ? 
Or peace broods with 

Folded wings ? 

Close to the great 

Heart of God ? 
Or in the exile's 

Land of Nod ? 

When at home, where 
Liv'st thou, friend ? 

Where? wide 

Destinies depend. 



78 



YES OR NO ? 

If we want everything, 
And get crumbs ; 

If our pudding only 
Lacks plums, 

The wind's in the east 
Where we reside, 

And all that's good 
An ebbing tide. 

Is this so, friend, — 

Yes or no ? 
Hell or heaven such 

Answers show. 



179 



SLIPPED AWAY. 

They slipped away, 
Slipped away, 
One by one, 
Whom I loved, 
And who loved me. 
Look I all 
The world around, 
Nowhere these I see. 
They slipped away. 
Slipped away. 

If I should slip 
To where they be^ 
And their dear arms 
Encircle me, 
The good old time 
Were come again, — 
My heaven ! my heaven ! 
Amen, Amen, 



i8o 



MINUS A THOUGHT. 

If I had a thought 

I'd prize it, 

This morning, 

When my brain is 

Like a purse 

Without a penny. 

How scarcity 

Makes precious 

Gold's best 

To who hasn't any ! 

As to the desert rain is 

Most welcome and 

Most gracious, — 

At least, so I surmise it, — 

If I had a thought 

I'd prize it. 



i8i 



NO USE TALKING. 

" It's no use talking," 
Sets us walking. 
The mind is made up. 
Tongue be laid up. 
Chattering more 
'S a weary bore. 
Wastes the time, 
Bad's this rhyme. 
Stop its mocking ; 
It's no use talking. 
Priests and laymen, 
One word, — Afnen, 



l82 



"A crow that flies through heaven's sweetest air."— NtU 
Notes, Curtis, 

Many birds of plumage rare 
Brighten spring and summer skies ; 
But thro' heaven's sweetest air 
A raven flies. 

Know'st, my heart, what meaneth this ? 
Thro' thy azure sunny bright, 
Thro' thy pleasure, thro' thy bliss, 
Flits no plume of night ? 

In summer's sweetest air, — a crow. 
Fly thou wilt across the blue. 
Summer still is sweet, I trow, 
Spite of you. 



i83 



A RAINY DAY. 

The number of drops when it raineth, — 

Who counteth or careth how many ? 
Once they touch ground, vanished forever ; 

No memorial of them, — not any, 
Save the earth a something wetter, 

And the verdure something greener, 
And a washed face of all nature, 

And renewed port and demeanor 
Of each pebble and each grass-blade, 

And the infernal clouds of dust laid. 
So the rainy day, it raineth, 

While black umbrellas blossom 
And humanity complaineth 

Of the weather, and the weather : 
For it raineth and it raineth. 

Not averse to rain are daisies 
Only wet clothes wilt by wetting. 

For the rain all nature praises, 
From sun rising to sun setting. 



i84 



COLOR PUZZLE. 

If anybody asked me why 
Fields are green but sky blue, 
There's Topsy's answer, " So they grew." 
If asked again why grew they so, 
I might, friend, ask you "x^," 
And you maybe would look wise, 
(And feel foolish) fumbling whys. 
But the fact is patent to all eyes. 
Green sky and blue tree 
Would suit neither you nor me. 
Should some troubler still blurt, " Why ? '' 
We'll refer him to any poet 
Who assumes to know it ; 
Or philosopher (green or blue) 
Who (simpleton) knows it, too. 
Adieu. 



i85 



COBWEBS. 

Cobwebs are beautiful. 

Nobody minds them 

But housewife with broom ; 

(Spiders are artists, tho', 
That I would have you know.) 
Webs of what loom 
Filmy as they ? 

Some poets' verses, — 
Nobody minds them ; 
Why should they, pray ? 

Yet they are filmy fair. 
Moon and sun love them 
And the dew alway. 



186 



BLUE SPACE. 

Blue space, infinite blue ; 
Blue that rising stops never, 
Lets souls through forever. 
O the might of such appealing ! 
Mounts desire, motive, feeling; 
Mounts the spirit evermore ; 
Reaches, enters heaven's door. 
Blue space, infinite blue. 



87 



A PROBLEM. 

Dead branch on a living tree, — 

Ought such a thing to be ? 

Nature, tho', lets it stay 

Till it rots quite away. 

Dead leaf quickly shed ; 

Not so the branch that's dead. 

Why the difference ? Sphinx tell. 

Yet who but knoweth well 

Death and life do not agree. 

Cut the dead branch from the tree. 

Then, philosophize all day 

Nature's inconsistent way, — 

To drop the leaf : 

The branch let stay. 



88 



"What penned them there with all the plain to choose? ^ 

Browning, 

Why some live where they do isn't clear, — 
Rusty houses, dingy streets, front and rear ; 
Not a grass-blade, not a flower in sight. 
Hundreds live there day and night ; 
Pass their years there and their Uves 
With their children and their wives. 
Why they Uve there passing queer. 
Beautiful world, free to choose where ; settUng 
there. 

Many's the mystery 

In human history. 
Rusty houses, dingy streets, front and rear, — 
Why some Uve where they do isn't clear. 



189 



VISIONS. 

I have had visions, — 

Oh, the mad height of them ! 

Might I cUmb up to them, 

Good-by the world. 
Could I Hve up to them, 
I'd be where no dark is, 
I'd be where the lark is, — 

In heaven's light empearled. 

But I were no better 
Thus blest with fruition, — 
Beatific condition 

All I've imagined, aspired to sublime. 
My motive is in regions elysian 
At the top of my vision ; 
And in it there I am. 

So endeth this rhyme. 



I90 



BED-TIME. 

The bed-time hour who misses ? 
Of all times surely this is 
Time that most cares dismisses, 
And brings most sleepy blisses. 

After the day is sped, 
After its prayers are said, 
With pillow for the head, 
How sweet the tranquil bed 1 

Day's toiling sun sets clear. 
The evening stars appear. 
The bed-time hour draws near,— 
Life's bed-time, — never fear. 

Time that all cares dismisses, 
And brings all dreamy blisses, 
Dear as own mother's kiss is. 
God's children's bed-time this is. 



191 



FALLEN LEAVES OF WILD ROSE. 

Once on the brier : now on the ground, 
Fallen the blooms are all around, — 
Fallen, fading, with'ring away. 
Beautiful roses, brief was your day. 
Seed of you liveth yet from the brier, 
Roses again in prophecy there. 

Rose-bush of rhymes^ your petals are shed. 
Leaves of wild roses thick where I tread. 
More's in the brier, though, where grew the 

roses, 
Else sad summer were when summer closes. 



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